


Alignment of the Stars

by nightelfofficial



Category: Callie Jacob - Fandom, Jonnor - Fandom, Jude Jacob/Connor Stevens - Fandom, The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Fluff, Gay, Humor, Love, Love/Hate, POV Connor, POV First Person, Self-Harm, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightelfofficial/pseuds/nightelfofficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jude and Connor are friends. More than friends. At least they were before. Before the accident. Now they are stuck trying to figure out who they are and what they want, trying to fight their demons. Will they ever win? *Chapter 12 was extended 8/11*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey," Jude mumbled, lifting my chin up slowly with his smooth fingers. He was the first person I had ever told. His eyes were gentle, they didn't judge and they didn't bore into me like they often did. He waited for me to reply, but my mouth couldn't form the words I wanted to say; I had already said _it_ , what more did he need?

"Connor, come on. Don't block me out-"

"You don't understand!" I screamed at him, immediately regretting it.

"What! What the hell don't I understand Connor! For fuck's sake! I know what it's like to be gay you narcissistic ass!" His words stung. _Gay._ Choked me. _Narcissistic._ He was right though. _Ass._ I stumbled to my feet, grabbed my keys off the coffee table and fled out the front door, racing to get to my car.

"Wait! Connor, wait!" Jude shouted from behind me. I turned around to see the cute boy, standing nearly 10 feet in front of me. Edgy appeal. Barefoot. Tight sweat pants. Loose tee. On his small frame. Messy, oh so messy hair. And a very disappointed look plastered across his face. _Fuck, just fucking kiss him._ I buried those thoughts in the back of mind so that I wasn't tempted to act on them.

I clambered into my car, started the engine, and drove off steadily. Not daring to glance back.

 

When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed something missing. My father's car. He was gone. _Thank God._

I threw my keys onto the dining room table, heading straight for the bottle of whiskey perched on a shelf in the corner of the room. I didn't bother looking for a glass, didn't need one.

The alcohol burned at the back of my throat, taunting me with the fire that it produced in my stomach. Three sips. Five. Six sips. Nine. Ten. My body craved more and more. I sauntered to the couch, feeling light headed and nauseous.

There was this obnoxious buzzing coming from my pocket. _My phone._ The screen read 11:53 pm. _Damn, it was late._ Message: Jude. _What the fuck did he want?_

**Hey..I know ur mad at me.**

**But don't do anything stupid.**

**Can we talk tomorrow?**

_Don't do anything stupid. What, was he my Goddamn mother now?_

My heart pounded after reading his text. I hated him. But he kept pulling me in. Extinguishing my dislike for him.

I couldn't help but reply. I took my time, fingers slowly typing out the message I wanted to send:

**Not mad.**

**Meet me after 2nd period.**

**Locker room.**

 

The halls were forsaken with laughter and gossip. I didn't give any attention to the ridiculousness.

The bell rang as I took my seat in Biology. I noticed something - no someone - was missing _._ I scanned the room, not once, but twice. _Where was Jude?_ He was always here. Always on time. But this morning, his seat was empty. Empty _. I'm empty._

My hands trembled while I sent him a quick text:

**Where r u?**

**We're supposed to talk.**

"Mr. Stevens?" the teacher glared at me, "Class has begun, please put your cell phone away."

I slid my phone into my pocket. Embarrassed. _I was an embarrassment._

First period dragged on. Class lulled. Listened to the lecture. Stared at the clock. 9:03 am. Two more minutes. Seconds ticked by like hours. 9:04. I closed my eyes. Tilted my head back.

At last. 9:05. I bolted from my desk when the bell sounded off, jerking my phone out of my pocket with record speed. One new message. My face lit up when I read his name.

**Don't worry.**

**See ya in the locker room.**

 

By the time I reached the locker room, my thoughts had already consumed me.

_He's not coming._

_You know he'll be a no show._

_You're an ass, Connor._

_A narcissistic one at that._

_He won't come._

_You're wasting your time._

_Go to class._

I blinked back tears when the door slammed behind me. No one was here. Just as I expected. My mind said leave. My heart said stay. _Five minutes. That's it. No more._ I leaned against the lockers. Waiting. Waiting. I seemed to always be waiting these days.

Three minutes. _Fuck! Where was he!?_ I paced back and forth. _Calm down, idiot._ I sat on the rickety bench. Relax.

"Hey.." a voice muttered. I gazed up at the figure above me. _Jude._ I hadn't even heard him come in.

I took a rigid breath before answering in a hushed tone, "Hey. Jude."

There he was. Staring; staring at me, staring at him. He was wearing the same clothes as last night. This time with shoes. A bracelet around his wrist. And a beanie. _Tumblr boy much?_

He looked tired. _Exhausted._ He looked sick. _No, hurt._  

I stood up.

"Connor.."

My eyes met his. Adverted to the floor.

"We can't be _just friends.._ " he whispered. That was it. I lunged forward and grabbed his arms. Yanking him towards my body. My lips crashed into his. _Mmm, warm_. I had never done this. _Kissed another guy._

His scent was intoxicating, overwhelming my entire body. Thin hands found my hips, tightened around them, pushing me backwards. He forced me up against the lockers. _Dominant, huh?_ He kept me pressed there. Unable to shift under his grasp. Our lips moved in sync, desperate.

After what seemed like an eternity, the kisses steadied. They were no longer ferocious, or pleading, but sweet and passionate. He removed his lips from mine, kissing down my jaw, to my neck.

"Jude-"

His hand slipped under my shirt.

My body froze.

"Stop!" I shoved him off, livid that he thought he could just fool around with me. _That's what he_ was _doing, right?_

"What the fuck Connor! You little bitch!" he barked.

"You're right Jude! We can't be just friends!" My breathing hitched, "We can't be fucking anything! You're a freak!"

I headed for the door, but before I could open it, his hands landed on my shoulder blades, thrusting me into cold metal. I pivoted swiftly and threw a punch with all my might, fist settling just above his right eye. He staggered back, stunned, but infuriated.

"Fuck you!!" he hollered.


	2. Chapter 2

Rain pounded against my car, but that wasn't why I couldn't get out. His car was there. He was there. It was Friday, I hadn't seen him since Tuesday. I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts, and turned the engine off. Opened the car door. Fleeing the 20 or so feet to the Foster's house.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Raising my hand to the door, I cautiously knocked; once, twice, three times.

The door swung open sluggishly, with Jude positioned perfectly behind it. There he was. His faded black jeans fit him smugly, leaving just enough up to the imagination. _Scratch that thought, you fag._ He wasn't wearing a shirt, obviously not prepared for visitors. He had a dark, purple stained bruise above his right eye. _Thanks to me._ I examined his pale, bare torso; my eyes traced each line and every edge down his stomach. _V-lines. Yum._

He suddenly coughed, startling me back into reality. Humiliation washed over my face, heating up my cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, staring at my shoes, "I wasn't expecting company."

"I can go if you want-" I began.

"No, no, don't worry about it. Come on in."

"Thanks," I whispered while warily stepping inside.

"You're not gonna punch me again, right?" I could hear humor in his voice, but the sadness seeped through his words.

I didn't answer, following him up the stairs, presumably to his bedroom.

"Why are you here Stevens?" Jude demanded as he sat down on his bed, criss-crossing his legs. I hesitated before plopping down too, far enough away to not touch, but close enough to feel the confusion radiating off his body. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders, and patiently waited for my response.

"I want to apologize." I shifted in my spot, "I didn't mean wh-what I said..about you..and about us. You're not a freak. And-and I'm sorry I punched you. I was mad. I should have handled it differently."

"Connor?"

"Yes, Jude?"

"Did you really think that I would you know-" he paused, searching for the right words, "fuck you?" Those weren't necessarily the 'right' words.

"I-I don't know," I stuttered. "I just thought that you would..that you would take advantage of-of me.."

His eyes found mine, insulted. "I wouldn't. Never, Connor. That thought never crossed my mind."

"I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry Jude," I sobbed. He pulled me into his arms, gently embracing me.

"Shh, it's okay, it's all okay."

Silence lingered between us. We didn't speak. Didn't need words. Minutes passed by, I cleared my throat, ready to break the ice.

"I can't be- I can't be gay," the unplanned words slipped through my mouth. Jude didn't even look up. He let go of my shivering body. Signaling me to back off.

"What the hell! You think you get to choose! You don't Connor! You're gay! Whether you want to be or not!"

"Jude.."

"Don't! Don't even start with me you asshole!" he ranted on. "What a typical douche!"

"Excuse me?" My heart sank at his cruel words, "If anyone's a douche it's you! You think you're better than everyone! What because you're gay? Because you're proud of that? Well I'm not you!"

"Fuck off! You don't even know me!" his voice cracked, and I could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I know enough," I huffed, staggering off his bed, my head throbbing. He clenched my wrist and tugged me backwards. He couldn't apologize, he wouldn't, but his eyes begged me to forgive him.

"Don't go- not again."

I smeared my thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape.

"You're beautiful," I said, wrapping my arms around his small waist. My hands rested just above the waistline of his jeans; his skin was cold, yet utterly soft. I could feel the muscles in his lower back tense when my fingers slid down his spine. His head fell against my chest with a heavy sigh.

I gently hauled him to his feet so that we were equal heights. He reached up, folding his arms about my neck, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were beyond enticing, and I needed to feel them once again. I brought my right hand up to his face, cupping his cheek as my thumb drifted across his rough, chapped bottom lip. In an instant, our mouths collided in a tender kiss. My tongue eagerly slipped into his wet mouth, exploring new territory. Without thinking, I collapsed onto the bed, guiding his body so that he was straddling mine. I allowed my hands to drop from his waist to each of his small thighs, squeezing ever so lightly. _What am I doing?_ He kept kissing me, missing my lips every now and then. My fingers shook as they twisted at the button on his jeans.

"Don't," Jude immediately sat up and climbed off of me. _Now I was the bad guy._ He had a blank expression on his face while he pulled a tee shirt over his head, seating himself on the floor next to the bed. I didn't dare move, didn't try to touch his porcelain skin, or even apologize. He hugged his knees to his chest before stretching his left hand under the bed. Within seconds his hand reemerged, a lighter and pack of cigarettes in his grip. _A smoker?_ He lit one carefully, urgently taking a long drag. _Was that some sort of bad boy charm?_

"I was raped," he breathed out, smoke spilling from his lips.

"You don't have to explain," I interjected before he could say another word.

"When I was 15, I started heavily partying. I'd get wasted out of my mind; I fucked any guy who asked, barely remembering it the next morning." He wouldn't look at me, I could hear the shame in his voice. "There weren't ever any emotions. No love. Not even lust. It felt like control. Some sick minded control. To escape the memory. I still do it. Like it's a habit I can't break."

"Jude, it's okay-"

"No it's not _okay_." His gaze shifted to the table beside his bed, he nodded in its direction, motioning for me to examine its contents. I saw the bottles. Three prescription medications. I lifted them each, one by one. Prozac. _Depression._ Xanax. _Anxiety._ Adderall. _ADHD._

He got up and darted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a few seconds the lock clicked, and then his weight slid down the door, dropping to the floor.

I rose from his bed, pacing back and forth, until I found myself leaning against that door, listening to Jude's sturdy breath.

"Jude..?"

No response.

"Jude?"

A rigid sigh slipped underneath the door. "Go home Connor."

The sympathy ached in my stomach.Stumbling away from the door, I exited his room.

Before heading down the stairs, I turned into the adjacent room. Each step became quieter than the previous as I crept towards the other bathroom door. _Jude couldn't have possibly thought to lock this one._ I turned the knob, careful not to make a ruckus. Pushing it open, I saw Jude, back against the opposite door, knees curled into his chest. He glanced up; his eyes were red from crying, and his body trembled at the sight of me.

"I told you to go home."

I sat down within a few feet from Jude, my back towards him. _This is a bad idea._ I clutched the bottom of my shirt. _Don't show him._ I paused, taking a deep breath, gradually hoisting the shirt up and over my head.

"Connor.." I could feel Jude's eyes gawking at my back.

Interrupting him, I spoke, "This is what my dad does."

"W-why?"

My body twitched when Jude's icy finger lightly outlined one of the many purple tinged bruises.

"It's..it's for all the times that I've messed up." I hung my head in utter embarrassment. "We all have problems Jude..everyone makes mistakes. You're not the only person who feels like a screw up. Not the only one who has to deal with..with _things._ "

Jude's hand trailed lower, until he reached the freshest of the cuts. It was deep, spanning from right hip to lower spine. He placed his thumb onto the cut, sending a twinge of pain up my back. I winced, but tolerated his thumb stroking the flesh.

"You can't let him do this to you Connor. You have to tell someone."

"I can deal with it. I don't need help," I remarked.

He bundled his arms around my waist from behind, forcing me to sit in between his legs. His lips swept down the back of my neck, finding their way to the little scars and marks that stained my left shoulder blade.

"Where are your parents?"

"Visiting my sister in San Francisco for the weekend."

"Can I - can I stay here tonight?"

"Come on." Jude yanked us up, opening the door. We intertwined our fingers and headed towards his bed. I kicked off my shoes, wondering whether or not to take off my jeans. My eyes curiously watched Jude undress, scanning over every curve of his thin back.

Within seconds we were snuggled together, holding one another close. He nuzzled his nose against mine, and we fell into a comfortable sleep.

Hours later I was awoken by Jude's arm falling over my head. I blinked several times, trying to focus on the digital clock behind him. 2:56 am. My gaze shifted back to Jude's face, his mouth slightly open. Tentatively, I pushed my lips into his, hoping he would wake up.

"Jude?"

"Hm?"

"Promise me something?"

His eyes fluttered open. "Only if you promise me something in return."

"Okay," I sighed. "Promise me you won't party anymore. No more drinking. No more smoking."

"Alright, but you have to stand up to your dad. Don't let him beat you. Ever again," his voice cracked when he said it, and I nodded in agreement. I kissed his nose, relaxing once again.

 

"You can't tell anyone," I deadpanned as I sat on the edge of his bed, "I'll be back tonight."

"Mhm," Jude grumbled, still partially asleep. I clutched my phone. Seven messages. Three missed calls. Two unheard voicemails. All from my father. _I need to face him._

 

The house felt uneasy, the silence, deafening. I knew he was home. He'd been waiting for me. I slid into my room, ready to defend myself, when he appeared in the hall.

"Where the fuck were you last night?" he shouted from the doorway, "Tell me Connor. Tell me why the hell you didn't have the decency to call. No son of mine is allowed to stay out all night without returning a single phone call."

I didn't contain an ounce of courage. _I couldn't face him._

"Answer me Goddammit!"

"I-I stayed at Jordan's house last night-"

"Oh really Connor? I called his mother and she said she hadn't seen you all week. Cough up the truth. _Now."_

"Fine! I stayed at Jude Adams-Foster's place!" I cried, "We had a project, and it got late and I just fell asleep over there! Sorry!"

"You slept under the same roof as that fag!? What the hell Connor! Are you gay now, because I certainly didn't raise my son up to be a fag!" He picked up the baseball bat by my dresser, approaching me in a drunken stagger. Lifting it above his head, he swung as I spun my body away, the bat slamming into my back, sending a surge of morbid pain up my spine. After letting out a groan, the world around me faded into a black mass.


	3. Chapter 3

"Baby," the words slinked between my teeth, and fell into place naturally. I eyed the broken boy hunched over on the floor beneath me. His eyes were shut, cheeks tinted a morbid scarlet, body shaking. He wore a tattered shirt that revealed his frail collarbones, and his sweats were bunched up, sporting stains here and there. I cleared my throat, "Jude."

It had been nearly three weeks since our last encounter; I didn't dare go see him after the beating I had received for spending the night. The first week was hell. His texts were lengthy and in depth, desperately searching for answers that I couldn't give him. Asking for my forgiveness, begging me to talk to him. I didn't reply. The second week was worse. There were no texts, no reminders that he cared, or that he wanted me; even checking my phone became utter agony. The third week by far made the rest of them look easy. Jude was at school, but he never came to the classes we had together. I would see him briefly in the halls, laughing with his friends, flirting with other guys. He wouldn't return my stares, or even acknowledge my existence, and by Thursday morning of the third week, I had decided what to do.

His room was chaotic. Posters had been ripped from the walls, left to sulk on the floor; dresser drawers were open, showcasing wrinkled shirts and lonely clothing. His sheets were crumpled in a pile on top of his overturned desk, and his bare mattress was propped against the dull gray wall. Hundreds of pills were embedded in the musty carpet, and a sullen Jude sat amidst the mess.

"Are you okay?" I kneeled down beside him, fearing the worst.

No answer.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" He smelled of vomit and stale cigarettes. I wrapped my arms around his slender shoulders, and kissed delicately along his left collarbone. _I love you._

I led him to the bathroom, allowing him to use me for balance. He was wasted. Absolutely wasted. Like a deer in headlights, he watched me fill the tub with feverish water and strawberry scented bubble bath. Soon enough, I was undressing the shaken boy in front of me; I kept my eyes locked on his face when I reached his boxers. My hands found his as I helped him into the tub, waiting until he was fully submerged in a clutter of bubbles before returning my gaze to him.

"Hey," I smiled, "It's going to be okay." His exquisite face fell into a frown.

"You didn't even call," he choked out. I grazed over his torso with my eyes, finding almost invisible scars lining his pale upper arms. He was beautiful. _Broken._ Stunning. _Hurt._

"Jude, it doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"It does matter though," he paused for several seconds before cutting me with his words, "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" I snapped at him. He leaned back against the wall of the tub, his mouth ajar, preparing to stab me yet again.

"I can't do this. I can't pretend that I don't want to be with you. That I don't love you."

"I-I know how you feel," I shamefully responded. _Love._ I averted my eyes to the tiled floor. _Why did this feel so familiar?_

"But Connor, I can't be your secret. I won't be," he slurred. "This isn't going to work. You aren't ready to come out. And I'm done waiting." I had no words for that. He knew that too.

I grabbed a washcloth, scrubbing at the little dirt smudges on his chest; I gently wiped off his face before easing him out of the tub while wrapping him in a fresh, white towel. I tried not to notice the new slits across his dainty wrist when he extended his arm towards the clean pair of underwear on the counter. After I tugged my hoodie off, I handed it to him, leaving the bathroom, in search of blankets and pillows.

I set up a palette on the floor with all the blankets that I had obtained from his closet. Finally, Jude emerged. He anxiously ran his fingers through his ruffled hair; my hoodie was quite large on him, but I almost smiled at the sight of him wearing it. His body wobbled towards where I was, and he quietly nestled into the tangle of blankets with me. Staring at the back of his head, I flung my arm over his side, my hand seeking his. Jude tensed, startled by the initial contact, yet he breathed out a sigh of content when I laced my fingers through his.

"Go to prom with me." I burrowed my head into the rear of his neck.

"I can't," he spoke. "This has to stop."

"Why?"

"Because- you don't remember me Connor."

I instantly connected what he had said to _the accident._ The accident that had happened approximately nine months ago. The accident in which I didn't remember; the one that threw my memory to the wind.

"It's my fault," Jude declared. "It's all my fault."

"Shh, it's not your fault Jude, we didn't even know each other then.".

"Exactly. That's exactly what you think. But you're wrong. We've known each other since the eighth grade. We we're best friends up until the summer before sophomore year," his voice faded away, haunting my thoughts. _Best friends?_ "Connor, we dated. Secretly. For eleven months. No one ever really found out."

He rolled over so that his face was just inches from mine. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked precariously.

"There was no point. It wouldn't change anything. You- I- we fought that night. You called me, drunk beyond recognition, begging me to change my mind. I couldn't be with you anymore, couldn't deal with the sneaking around and all the lying. Connor you wouldn't listen to me, you said you were coming over and then you hung up. You were on the way to my house when you ran a stop sign and a truck smashed into your car."

"No," I murmured.

"Babe, you were in a coma for 13 days. Woke up with severe amnesia. I didn't bother to come visit you. Not that you'd remember me anyways."

By now, the tears were escaping my eyes, burning my cheeks. I didn't remember him. I had no memories of knowing him past the first day of junior year.

He sniffled, "I was so in love with you Connor Stevens. I've tried a million things to forget you, but you're engraved into my mind."

"How could you act like you didn't know me?" I dared.

"It was simple- at first. You weren't even the same Connor I had known. Just some guy who looked like my ex boyfriend. After we started hanging out though, I saw it. I saw the twinkle in your eyes, the crooked smile you gave me when I helped you on a math problem; the shimmer of the boy I had loved so long ago." His eyes lifted to meet mine in the sheer darkness. "The one I still love now."

"I love you, Jude," I breathed.

My lips caught his, drawing him into me.

"Can we start over, please?"

"Connor -"

"No. I want the entire world to know that you're mine. Jude, please?" my heart broke a little when I said it, but I needed him. I needed us.

He let out a whimper and snuggled against my chest. I enveloped him in my embrace, realizing this would be the end.

 

"You look like hell man," Jordan proclaimed. "Where were you yesterday? Coach was pissed."

"Busy, okay?" I growled. I had promptly left Jude's before seven that morning, careful not to wake him; I figured he had no intention of coming to school today anyways. Due to the fact that I did not have a clean set of clothes with me, I had managed to escape his house wearing one of his many provocative tank tops.

"Meghan's having a party tonight, wanna come?" he smirked, "There'll be plenty of smokin' hot babes for you to hit up." He  grabbed his mitt and a baseball, motioning me to the field.

"Will there be alcohol?" I surfaced from the dugout, thinking maybe the party wouldn't be so bad.

"Lots."

 

Jordan was late, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but we made it to Meghan's just fine despite his awful driving. The house was throbbing with over played pop songs, and we blended into the cliché setting in no time. There had to be at least a dozen make out sessions going on, typical for a party this size. Jordan ditched me at the immediate glimpse of Meghan, which was whatever considering I was here for the alcohol, not the girls. Within 10 minutes, I found myself in the kitchen guzzling my second beer.

"Woah dude, slow down!" Jordan blurted from the entryway. He had Meghan hanging on his arm, giving him the most evident pair of 'sex eyes' I had ever seen.

"Come on Connor," she said, "You need to get some serious action."

I took another beer and followed them into the eye of the storm. They led me to a short, curvy girl with long dark hair, and glazed over brown eyes. _Daria._ She was hot by anyone's standards, except she wasn't really my _type_.

"Daria," Meghan paused, glancing up at me, "Connor. Connor, Daria."

"Hey," she giggled, raping me with her eyes. _Yes raping._

"Hi," I casually smiled, taking a slow sip from what was now my third beer.

"Wanna dance?" She bit her lip, hinting that she had other plans, that didn't involve dancing.

"Sure," I nodded, while catching the wink she gave me when she took my free hand, only to drag me farther into the crowd. Once Daria had established a suitable spot, she spun away from me, and backed herself up and into my lower body. _Damn it._ Letting her lead, I attempted to keep up with her as she grinded down on me.

Occasionally, she would brush up against more sensitive areas, yet she was too short to do much damage. My hand roamed over her body, making me even more uncomfortable, so I focused on finishing my beer instead.

By the time the second song was over, I had a slight erection pushing through my jeans. I imagined she had noticed when she faced me once again and placed a promiscuous kiss at the corner of my lips.

"How 'bout we take this upstairs?" she whispered.

"Mhm," I teased, "Let me piss first." Bounding to the kitchen, I snatched another beer and chugged it while heading up the stairs. My vision was blurred around the edges, and my balance sucked, but I was still able to find what appeared to be a bathroom.

I pushed the white door open, and to my astonishment, I had discovered more than a bathroom. A guy, who looked quite similar to the one I had woken up next to that morning, had his tongue shoved down some stranger's throat, with his hand in that stranger's pants.

Jude, yes Jude, instantly jolted away from this stranger.

"Connor."

"Lock the door next time," I angrily slandered, before scurrying away from the scene.


	4. Chapter 4

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Connor! Wait up!" Fleeing out of the bathroom, I looked back at Tate and mouthed an emotionless 'sorry'. The stairs proved to be a difficult task for someone with even the slightest buzz; for once in my teenage life, I actually had to use the rail to get down them. Once at the bottom, I caught a glimpse of Connor slipping out the front door. _You won't get away that easy._

By the time I got outside, he was crumpled in the front lawn, sobbing about God knows what.

"Hey," I mumbled, sitting down just inches from his quivering body. "Calm down." Fuck he smelt awful, like musty cologne masked in the stench of beer. Absolutely sickening.

"Y-you're disgusting. You can't keep it in your p-pants for nothing." I almost burst out laughing at how ridiculous he sounded. Who was he to tell me where I could stick it?

"Like you're any better." My remark shut him up momentarily.

"I'm a virgin," he stuttered.

"How do you know?" I snarled back at him. "You can't remember shit." Not that we ever fucked. He wouldn't even take his shirt off in front of me, let alone allow me to so much as touch him wrong.

"You didn't-"

I stood up, dusted myself off, and headed towards the street. He could throw himself a pity party- without me having to watch. _Where the hell did I park?_

After an eternity of searching for my damn car, I cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. My stomach rumbled; I was starving, in fact I couldn't remember when the last time I'd had a meal was. I rolled down the two front windows of the car, letting in the cool night air; my fingers twisted the small volume knob to the right, igniting the car in a wave of music.

_"Oh maybe I, maybe I was wrong from the start_

_I might be proud, but at least I'm proud of something_

_You've taken pride in becoming nothing_

_You keep me on the edge of my seat_

_I bite my tongue so you don't hear me_

_I wanna hate every part of you in me_

_I can't hate the ones who made me"_

I took out my phone at the next red light, and stared at the screensaver. It had remained the same since forever ago. Just a goofy selfie we took when we were dating. 'We' as in Connor and I. The car behind me honked, and I glanced up in time to see that the light had changed.

 

"Good morning sleepy head!" Callie chimed when I walked into the kitchen. She pulled me into a quick hug, ruffling my hair like she had always done.

"Hey," I smiled at my sister. "Glad to be home for a week?"

"Duh, I missed you! Want something to eat?"

My eyes found the clock. 11:43 am. _Fuck, I had slept through breakfast._ "No thanks, I'm good."

"How's school?" she asked.

"Eh, fine, ya know, same old same old."

"How  are _you_?"

"Me? I'm fantastic. Never better." I figured she could hear the sarcasm in my voice, but to hell with that.

"What about Connor?" Ever since his accident, Callie had been worried about Connor and I's er- friendship.

"What about _him_?" I retorted much to her dismay.

"Jude. For real."

"He's fine. For real." My eyes practically rolled to the back of my head, signaling her shut it.

"Alright, alright," she murmured, gathering her bags and making an escape.

I snatched my phone off the counter and took a seat on one of the bar stools. Three missed calls. One voicemail. All from Connor. Nervously, my thumb touched the voicemail icon and I pressed the phone to my ear:

"Hey...It's Connor. I-I-I know youu don't care, buttt Ineedtotalktoyou. I'm sorry Jude. I'm sorryyy."

His words were beyond slurred, I knew he could put away some alcohol, but God he didn't know when to stop.

I checked the mirror in the hall; plaid pajama pants, holey white band tee, tousled hair, and the perfect amount of wrist bands. All I needed was shoes.

There was no way Connor had made it home last night. First stop: Meghan's.

 

Her lawn was trashed. No. Her _house_ was trashed. And there sat Connor. On the curb. Waiting indefinitely for some sorry soul to pick his drunk ass up and take him home. Guess that made me the sorry soul. The knees of his jeans showed off oh so lovely grass stains that he had acquired the previous night, one side of his- ahem my- tank top drooping off his shoulder, and his sandy brown hair strewn this way and that. He spotted me sitting in my car, flashing me a warm smile like he didn't hate my guts.

Suddenly he opened the passenger side door and took a seat. Uninvited. And unwanted.

"Hey, can we just drive?" he muttered.

I nodded, agreeing to waste precious gas on driving _him_ around. 

A lifetime of silence passed before he even spoke to me again. Within that short lifetime, I had managed to get coffee, fill up my tank, run two stop signs, hit a curb, and drive all the way to the lake outside of town. Connor, on the other hand, had managed to do zilch, unless watching cars go by counts. In which it does not.

"Hi," he whispered to me.

"Hi."

His eyes found mine, a hazel mess of sadness that I could get lost in for hours. _Shit._ In all honesty, Connor was breath taking. _Fuck, I hated those thoughts._ He had been breath taking since we were 15. Strong arms. Firm torso. Bright eyes. Soft hands. Intoxicating smile. Enticing lips. Deep tan. Beautiful. Handsome. I was always jealous. Jealous of not only his looks, but his personality as well. His courage. Compassion. Understanding. He was the guy I longed to be, and the one I had become completely opposite of.

"Jude?" My thoughts shattered, and I returned my focus on the present.

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Connor, quit apologizing. Okay?"

"Oh okay-"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you saw what you did. You didn't deserve to see that," my breathing slowed as I reached out to place my hand on his knee.

"Don't be silly. You're not my boyfriend. You can fuck who you please," the words crushed me.

"You're right Connor. I'm not your boyfriend. I'm not your anything."

The look on his face suggested we had never even kissed. And that was fine by me.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get the fuck out of my car, Connor."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ughhhh. Taylor I am not and will not go to prom - with you or anyone for that matter." Spring break had come to a denouement, and Taylor was begging me on this lazy Sunday afternoon to go to prom with her. We had spent nearly all week together shopping for dresses, perusing shoe isles, and stalking cute boys on Facebook after her date called the whole 'date' part off. Now she wanted me to go with her. _Why me?_

"Jude! It'll be fun! What if you meet someone?" she whined.

"U-huh. I'm going to find my soul mate at junior prom. Just like that."

"Shut up dork! You know you're hot," her eyebrows wiggled and she gave me a little smirk. I could only laugh at her hilarious gesture, throwing an old issue of Vogue her way. She flinched when the magazine smacked the carpet, her soft blonde hair falling over her face.

"Just think about it. Please Jude," Taylor pouted.

"Whatever dude. Maybe."

I glared down at my hands, at the chipped away black nail polish, my mind was a million miles away.

"Jude? Hello? Are you even listening to me?" I shook my head, waiting for a painful memory to be tucked away. "Alex texted you." Fuck. Taylor was checking my phone.

"Lemme see!" I shrieked, jerking the phone out of her small hands.

**Hey. My place tonight, see ya (;**

Below that was a message that I had most certainly not crafted.

**Sorry can't. Change of plans.**

"What the hell Taylor!"

"Seriously Jude? You don't have to get laid every other day!" she exaggerated.

"I think he's 'the one'," I sarcastically replied, typing out _my_ response to Alex.

**Scratch that. Be there in 10. (;**

"That's what you said last weekend," Taylor wasn't joking around anymore, she didn't find this the least bit funny. Actually she was borderline pissed at my 'unruly' behavior.

"Come on, I'm dropping you off," I grinned, snatching a condom off the top of my dresser.

"You're sick," she giggled.

 

Last night hadn't been much fun. Alex sucked. Turned out he wasn't the one.

Oh and school was no better. Posters for prom were littered all about the school. They were unbearable. Downright nauseating. Falsely advertising that prom would inadvertently be 'the best night of our lives'. What a wonderful promise to be broken.

Not only were the posters intolerable, but so was Connor. I had chosen to attend both Chemistry and American Government, in which I was forced against my will to sit extremely too close to him. And by extremely too close, I mean within a nine foot range. He was a fucking magnet for my eyes. I noticed _everything._ Especially the daunting few times he peeked at me. Trying to catch my attention so that I would see him flirt with new his lab partner. Who happened to be Daria. My replacement.

He seemed so fucking engaged in their conversation that I didn't quite understand why he kept assuring himself that I saw his gestures. Then I caught on. He was playing the jealousy card. Which didn't make much sense considering 1.) Daria was a girl. And 2.) Connor was gay. Not that anyone but me knew about number two. He truly proved to be a dumbass though. Me? Jealous? Of a girl? Haha. Funny, Stevens.

When Chemistry FINALLY ended, I felt the flesh of another hand brush across mine as I was passing through the doorway. _Connor_. As expected _. What a little shit_. For a fraction of a very short second, I swore I saw the hurt shimmer through his eyes. He bit his lip as his face fell into an even more depressing frown. Still as irresistible as ever. Fuck you Connor Stevens. Always looking good.

If the whole situation wasn't already embarrassing enough, that's when my mind went into complete-nicotine-buzzed overdrive, and made an apparent attempt at checking him out. He was wearing a red tank top, that I presumed actually belonged to him, jeans that any other jock would be wearing, and his typical 'I'm a douche' sneakers.

My awkward gaze was instantaneously broken as a tall, masculine figure grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the over populated hall. The figure planted a rough, sloppy kiss on my lips. _Alex._ Even his kissing sucked. Enough to be recognizable. What the fuck did he want anyways?

"See you later, right?" he groaned. I had been gifted an opportunity. I could take it or leave it. And of course, since Connor was in earshot, I took it.

"Sure babe," I cheekily grinned at the attractive football player, loud enough for anyone who was around to hear. Not that we were ever hooking up again. Because we weren't. Under any circumstances.

Once Alex dispersed into the halls, I switched my mind to Connor. He furiously slammed his locker shut, a pang of guilt swelling in my stomach. He stalked off, veering left into the bathroom.

Temptation gnawed at me. Desperate to hear his voice. I craved his touch. But my brain would not permit my feet to make the journey to that bathroom. Instead, my feet led me out the school's front doors, through the parking lot, and directly to the beach. Where I would spend the next two hours of my life contemplating what to do about Connor.

 

It was Thursday. Prom was May 2nd. Saturday. Taylor was sprawled out on her bed, having decided that glaring at magazines and smoking was a much better option than school. I happily agreed.

She took a long, well needed drag from the diminishing cigarette before passing it off to me. "What are you going to do about Connor?" she interrupted the steady silence, reverting back to our previous conversation. I had told her. All about Connor. And me. Which made Taylor believe that I did in fact have feelings. Feelings specifically reserved for Connor, as she put it.

"I dunno."

"Why not text him?"

"Nah. He already hates me as is."

She swooped down and seized my phone from the floor, twitching her fingers all about the screen.

Taylor handed the phone off to me, trading it for the cigarette, "If he texts back, reply. Got it?"

"Yeah sure." I opened the message up to see what God awful thing she had sent.

**You going to prom?**

I rolled my eyes at Taylor, thinking what a lame text to send. I switched to Facebook, searched "Connor Stevens", and began browsing through his page. _Baseball. Baseball team photos. Practice schedule. Game schedule. Major League links. School baseball videos._

The buzz disrupted my stalking session, and shot a strong dose of anxiety into my veins.

Connor:

**Yeah**

"Well?" Taylor asked.

"He said 'yeah'."

 I typed:

**Cool**

Then hit send.

 

That night it was Tate. Offering weed, and plenty of 'fun'. I saw this as an opportunity to get perpetually high, and finish what we had started weeks ago.

The weed was good. Tate, not so much. Better than Alex. But not worth another round. No matter how many drugs the sophomore provided, I would not do _that_ again. Or maybe it was just me. I was sick. I was tired. Sick and tired of having sex.

Much to my distaste I had somehow managed to send Connor, not a drunk text, but a stoned text, which was just a bad.

It read:

**Hey sxxy got any plns tmorrw night?**

I didn't know about this blatant text until the next morning, when I received a message from Connor that didn't make much sense. After reading the message I had sent him- which by the way stoned Jude, what a good example of why I should turn spell check back on- I realized that his response was quite appropriate.

**Get your head out of your ass Jude**

1.) Ouch. And 2.) My God Connor, that is some hearty advice. Thanks.

Welp. Connor was a no-show on this lovely Friday. Probably stayed home from school, plotting my murder or some shit along those lines.

I dozed off during 5th hour, and I've gotta say, Mrs. Steinman has no respect for sleeping people. She shook me awake, handed me a slip, and said, "Go to the office. _Now._ " No big deal. I mean, the vice principal was my mom after all. Stupid Steinman. Could she not tell by the last name?

"Hey bud, what are you doing here?" she asked when I strode through the door.

"Oh you know, accidentally fell asleep in class. End of the world situation."

"Jude," Mom stared me over, and I guess she noticed what a disgruntled mess I was when she said, "I'll let it slide this time, but honey, it can't happen again."

I nodded, approving of this punishment. Thank God Mrs. Steinman wasn't the vice principal.

"Go home, get some rest."

 

Prom was already a fiasco, and it hadn't even started. I spent my Saturday morning puking up my guts, laying on the cool tile of the smelly bathroom floor, and cringing in pain every time I so much as moved an inch. By the time the afternoon rolled around, I felt well enough to relocate to the bed.

According to Taylor, I was going to prom, in sickness or in health. So for two and half hours, I wasted valuable napping time on preparing myself for the dreaded night. I honestly don't know where those two and half hours went due to the fact that I was not dressing up all grade A classy and shit. For real, I didn't even intend on wearing a button up shirt of any sort. Instead, I threw on snug black jeans, not PANTS, actual JEANS, a white v-neck tee, my red Vans, and I draped a loose, matching red tie around my neck. Mission: Jude Tried. Status: Complete.

I picked Taylor up. Three minutes past 8 o'clock. Or as Taylor put it, three minutes late. She scolded me about it all the way to the school as if I had done some horrible injustice to the human race.

Just when I thought her ranting would never stop, she turned to me and smiled.

"Jude, you look handsome tonight, even if you are lacking appropriate formal wear," she snickered, "Thanks for coming with me. You really didn't have to."

"No problem beautiful. I would go to any prom with you any day." And then we were laughing. Because we both knew that that was not true, by any means.


	6. Chapter 6

I admit it. Prom wasn't _that_ bad. I mean, sure, there were nearly five hundred sweaty bodies crammed into the gym, but I had to give props to whoever decorated the place. Couldn't even tell it was a gym, unless I looked at the floor. It was surreal. Magical. Almost.

I ended up dancing with Taylor for a good portion of the time, trying to be a good date. After awhile, I let Charlie, the original prom date who had cancelled on her, take over.

"Are you sure Jude?" Taylor pleaded with me, "I don't have to dance with him."

"No, it's fine. Enjoy yourself." I grinned at both her and that jerk before heading over to an empty table. Little did I know that I would spend the rest of my night sitting there, waiting for I guess, nothing. A few girls stopped here and there, checking to see if I was okay, or asking for some guy advice. I cheerfully answered their questions, and made it clear, that yes, I was indeed okay.

I thought I spotted Connor a couple of times, with Daria at his hip. Literally. But it may have been my imagination. I knew that punch tasted funky.

As the dance was coming to a close, and I was sending an "I'll be home soon" text, I noticed an undeniably familiar body looming over me.

He extended his hand out to me, "Hi, I'm Connor, and I'm gay." This action sort of irked me. Hadn't he come here with a girl? Not that I really had room to talk.

"Didn't you come here with Daria," I stated. Yes, it was a statement, not a question.

"It doesn't matter who I came here with, it matters who I came here to see," he paused, "So may I have this last dance?"

I was speechless. Dumbfounded. I couldn't even nod at him. Instead I smiled at the astounding boy, giving him permission to dance with me.

He gently tugged me out of the chair, now firmly holding my hand, and leading me to the center of the gym. Everyone, okay not 'everyone', but most everyone, stared. No. Gawked. Not at me, they were aware that I was gay. But at Connor.

His arms wrapped loosely about my waist, a little unsure of exactly what he was doing; mine found their place around his neck. We swayed slowly to the soft music, ignoring the giggles and whispers surrounding us.

_"Well I heard you were trouble_

_And you heard I was trouble_

_But your name is a wave washing over me_

_No games just a slave to you totally_

_Cause I don't care what they say about your Virgo_

_And you don't care what they say about me Virgo_

_But you know what they say about trouble"_

He pressed his forehead lightly against mine, shutting his eyes, and allowing a couple of rigid breaths to escape from his mouth.

"Hey," I murmured. "You okay?"

"I'm happy," his smooth lips melted into mine, forming a melancholy kiss.

_"So pull me down if you want to_

_And I hope that you want to_

_Cause I wanna be your man_

_And I wanna say it loud_

_You can show me where trouble goes_

_Tell me secrets only trouble knows"_

The music drifted off, but we didn't drift apart, still caught up in our enchanted moment. Connor's eyes fluttered open, hazel specks. "Come home with me."

 

The car ride had been dead silent. Connor drove us home in my car. Nearly five minutes into the drive, he reached out and clasped my hand, tangling our fingers together. The warmth overwhelmed me. A high that I hadn't felt in a long time, rushed over me. Damn.

"What about your dad?"

He nervously cleared his throat, turning into his driveway, "He's out of town for the weekend. Business trip."

"Oh."

"Do you not want to hang out with me or something?" Connor looked scared, as if my intentions didn't align with his.

"No. I mean, it's just....ya know what? It's nothing. It's cool."

He killed the engine, handing me the keys with a worried expression smothered across his face, "Are you sure? We don't have to do this."

"Connor. Stop. I. Am. Spending. The. Night. Endofstory."

"O-okay," he stuttered.

"What's the matter?" His anxiety was starting to stress me out, I had come home with him like he had asked. What was the big deal?

"N-nothing. Come on, let's just go inside."

It was practically a lifetime ago that I had set foot in the Stevens' house. Nothing had changed. Messy. Cluttered. The home of a single father and his son.

Connor led me to his bedroom, I didn't need him to, but he didn't know that. We had spent so much time in there. Napping. Cuddling. Kissing. Arguing. Laughing. Talking. Loving. Until Adam found out that his son's best friend was gay. Luckily he hadn't found out that Connor was my boyfriend.

 Adam hated me. Despised my very existence. Told Connor I was "contagious". Because, yes Mr. Stevens, one sneeze outta the gay kid and the whole room would be contaminated. That fucktard.

Anyways, the emotions hit me the instant we walked through his bedroom door. Same navy blue walls that I had helped paint. Same gray comforter; it had always been the softest, and my personal favorite. Same posters. Same trophies. Same books, CDs.

"Do you- do you want something to change in to?"                                                        

"Yeah sure, thanks," I replied as he threw me a pair of flannel pants and a soft tee. Quietly, I undressed, VERY aware of Connor watching. I tried to be fast, but only ended up stumbling here and there. I could feel his eyes glued to my slender back, boring into my fucking soul. At last, I had slipped on the shirt, fully dressed.

"Jude?"

"Yes Connor?" I pivoted towards him so that we were facing once again, and sat down on his bed. He eyed me from across the room, contemplating his next move.

"It's- you're- you're really beautiful. Okay?" God why was he stammering so much? He sounded like an idiot. _My idiot._ Well, technically not mine. Anymore.

"You know I'm proud of you, right?" I began, "What you did was brave-"

"I don't want to hide anymore, I can't."

Then he commenced to unbuttoning his shirt, and that's when I averted my gaze, not really even tempted to watch, just giving him the respect he deserved. I grabbed the stuffed blue elephant from the foot of the bed, reflecting on when I had bought it for him. To my surprise he had liked it, even more than the date I had taken him on. Which was absolutely ridiculous.

I hugged the damn elephant to my chest and collapsed into the pillows, laying on my side, a tear falling down my cheek. _Don't cry. Not now. Suck it up._ My body entirely went against my wishes; it heaved and I spiraled into a meltdown. Fuck Jude. I couldn't control the sobs, or help the little whimpers, or the crying. Everything just hurt. I needed for the pain to fucking end.

"Hey, hey. Shh." Connor climbed into bed, slinging his arm over my waist. Thank the lord my back was turned him. I felt like a psycho. And I knew I looked worse. I brought the elephant to my face, trying to hide myself by burying my head into its soft tummy. I could be such a five year old sometimes. Grow up, Jude. Connor clenched my limp hand and began rubbing slow circles on the back of it with his thumb.

"Jude, what did I do wrong?"

I didn't answer.

"Did I say something?"

"No!" I choked out, muffled by the stuffed animal I refused to let go of.

"Then what? What is wrong?" He pulled my shuddering body into his; molding us together. I curled into a ball. Wrapping one arm around my knees.

"I-I j-just want-," it was nearly impossible to speak, let alone get out a sentence, "want to b-be able to call y-you m-mine." My heart ached. My body ached.

"You can. I'm all yours," he whispered. I let out another fit of sobs, waiting for him to add the 'if'. But he didn't. "Let it out, it's okay, _we're_ okay."

I turned over, nuzzling into Connor, breathing him in. Cinnamon. He smelt like cinnamon.

The elephant remained in my arms, no longer sheltering my face from Connor's eyes. He took his thumb and swiped it across my left cheek, trying to obliterate the tears. My head rested just under his chin, nose just centimeters from his neck.

"Can I admit something?" he asked. I nodded against him.

"Well, a while back, I found some-some stuff. I was looking for my English Literature book and was checking under my bed." Oh fuck, he'd found it. "I-uhm-I noticed that there was a box I hadn't ever opened-I mean since you know-and so I was curious. Uhm, I pulled it out, and opened it, and that's when-when the idea of 'us' existing felt real. There were all these photos, you know, of you and me. Just being silly, or kissing, or just whatever. And then there were notes, I guess all from you, and I mean I read them-"

"When..when did you find the box Connor?"

"A few days after you picked me up from that stupid party." I could feel him swallow the lump in his throat when he recalled the party. "Anyways, when I read those notes, and saw the pictures, and all the other little things, I just-I just knew I had to have you. I had to fall in love with you again. Because I seemed really happy when we were together, and I-I well I want to experience it..again."

I sighed, "You want to fall in love, with an asshole, again?"

"Yes, except you're not an asshole."

"I've been a total dick to you lately-"

"Jude. I know that I hurt you back then. I deserved it."

"The only thing you ever did that really hurt me was get behind the wheel, drunk. Other than that I was constantly hurting you."

"Babe, don't. It's the past, I want you now."                               

I shifted in his grasp so that our faces aligned, noses barely touching. "What happens when your dad finds out?"

"I'll deal with it when the time comes."

"Okay," I cooed, shutting my eyes. I didn't even want to imagine what would actually go down when Connor's dad heard the news. He'd be pissed. Fucking pissed.

"Tell me about us?" Connor asked.

"What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

"Con, it would take me a week to tell you everything."

"Then start with how we met."


	7. Chapter 7

"Mmm," I breathed in the scent of a still sleeping Jude. Rain _._ And musky vanilla.

We'd stayed up pretty late; Jude fell asleep in the middle of telling me about our first kiss. Actually not telling, elaborating. Apparently this kiss had happened long before I had even come to terms with my sexuality. While he was recounting the story, his eyes had drifted close, words becoming sleepy before he took a plunge into dreamland. The way he dozed off made me happy. Just like waking up next to him made me happy. Especially this morning. I didn't need to sneak off. It was Sunday. At my house. No dad. No worries.

I continued to watch the exquisite body beside me sleep. Inhale. Exhale. Arms still wrapped around that dumb stuffed animal. Messy hair. Mouth ajar. With the sheets twisted about his feet and ankles.

Honestly, I wasn't prepared to think about tomorrow. I'd be strolling into Anchor Beach, not as Connor, but as 'the gay kid'. Not to mention my father, who was bound to find out one way or another that his beloved son liked dick.

"Good morning, _boyfriend_ ," a groggy voice stirred next to me. _Boyfriend._ He smiled when our eyes connected.

"Morning beautiful," I chimed back.

Jude sat up, stretching his gangly arms. "Fuckk. Connor. Twin beds are not designed for two people."

"Oh, but why call them twin beds?" I laughed, catching his glare. "Okay, okay, I know. Back hurt?"

"Like a bitch."

"Turn around," I demanded, placing my hands on his firm shoulders as he did what he was told.

"Will I be receiving this treatment every morning?" Jude joked.

"Well of course your highness." I massaged his back, applying varying amounts of pressure along his spine. Something must have felt good because Jude tilted his head back slightly, letting out a soft moan. He was making it unbelievably hard to focus on the task at hand.

My body transferred into an uncomfortable state, and that's when I decided to call it quits. "Uhm, hey..do you mind if..if I go take a shower?"

"Go ahead," he shrugged, settling into the comforter once again. "Wake me up when you're out."

"Okay," I stumbled off the bed, toward the jumble of clothes piled atop my dresser. Grabbing sweats and a dark maroon t-shirt, I scampered to the bathroom.

 

We spent the rest of the day curled up in bed, watching romantic comedies on my laptop, and making snide remarks about little things the characters did that bothered us. There were no stolen kisses; no kisses at all. In fact, we sat inches apart, not even touching. Every once in awhile we'd bump shoulders, or our feet would clash. When he finally reached for my hand, I was relieved. It felt normal, like something a new couple should be doing. I didn't need a steamy make out session; the warmth of his hand entwined in mine proved enough for me.

"Hey, I should probably get going, my moms will be worried sick if I'm not home tonight," Jude said late in the afternoon.

"Yeah you're right," I frowned. _What the hell Connor. You can't keep him here forever._ I shut the laptop, and quickly got off the bed.

Jude gripped my wrist. "Don't be mad. You'll see me tomorrow. I promise."

"Are you sure? Because you have this tendency to ditch school whenever-"

"Shut up. I will be there. For you. Now, can I please go home, _babe_?"

"Yes," I sighed. "I'll walk you out."

He picked his clothes up off the floor, and followed me out to the front porch.

"Bye Jude," I cooed, while pulling him into a hug.

"Bye Con."

 

I savored the morning; I woke up plenty early to make sure I had enough time before school. I needed to think. Think about how to handle all of this. I had a _boyfriend_. Was that even normal?

By the time I walked through Anchor Beach's front doors, I had gotten nearly a dozen glares, mostly from girls, and too many disgusted looks, mostly from guys. Once I reached my locker, things escalated even more.

"Hey Stevens!" called out Vince. "You slept with the whole baseball team yet?"

Anyone who was around to hear his comment, laughed. I couldn't stand up for myself. That's how pathetic I was. How ashamed I felt. I slammed my locker shut, blinking back the tears welling in my eyes.  

After arriving to Chemistry, I hastily took my seat. Jude wasn't here yet. Surprise, surprise. But Daria was.

"So what? Are you and Jude a _thing_ now?" she prodded at me.

"Why does it matter to _you_?" I sneered.

"Because Connor. You went to prom with me. And you left with him."

"And?"

"And I thought you liked me!"

"Well you thought wrong."

And with that, we were done talking. She even changed lab partners, sitting down next to Taylor, instead of me.

"Hi," his voice immediately calmed me. "Can I sit here?"

"Duh," I smirked at him.

"So..how are you?" Jude said while settling into his chair.

"Not so good, I guess."

"What's wrong?" He caressed my hand under the table, obviously not concerned who saw. I was concerned though, so I reeled back.

"Jude-"

"I know it's hard Connor, but it's going to get better, and easier."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"You have to. Everyone knows. You can't take it back. You chose this, remember?"

"Yes! I remember, okay!" I snapped at him. "I just wish I didn't feel so ashamed."

"Ashamed that you're gay? Or that I'm your boyfriend?"

"I-I don't know-"

"Whatever. Forget it," he got up, and left, rushing out of the classroom, and away from me. _Fuck. Stop screwing things up._ I chased after him, determined to change his mind.

"Jude!"

He kept walking, faster now.

"Stop!" I ran to catch up, and when I was in close proximity, I wrapped my arms around him from behind. "I said 'stop'."

Jude squirmed, but I wasn't willing to let go. "I would never be embarrassed by you. Hell, if anything, you should be embarrassed by me," I whispered into his ear.

I loosened my grasp on him, allowing him to pivot towards me. And then it happened. Our lips collided. Need surging through my body. A fire that raged on when we parted. In that moment, I didn't care that there were other students pointing at us, or making jokes. This felt right. This felt powerful.

"I forgive you."

 

I ditched baseball practice that afternoon. Not that I was welcome anyways according to Brad. As soon as I set foot in the locker room, everyone fell silent.

"Change somewhere else, fag!" Brad scowled. "You're not welcome in here anymore."

If I wasn't welcome in the locker room, then I probably wasn't welcome on the field either.

I trekked out to my car, hoping that I'd catch Jude before he left. But of course I didn't. My luck had ran short today.

Going home was the biggest mistake. I should've known he'd find out sooner than later.

"What the fuck is this I hear about you being gay?" he snarled the instant I walked in the house. I could have lied, said it was a silly rumor, played it off. Maybe even laughed about it later. Except I couldn't keep pretending.

"Is this some sick joke? Are you doing this for attention Connor? What the hell is wrong with you!"

"It's not a joke! I don't want attention, from you or from anyone! I've been gay since forever! Sorry that your 'perfect' son isn't so perfect!" I screamed at him.

"This better be a lie! Man shall not lay with man! Do you understand!?"

"I fucking understand, but I didn't choose this! I didn't choose to fall in love with a guy!" I wanted to take the last sentence back the second it came out of my mouth. My father grabbed my shirt and slammed me into the front door, bringing his knee to my chest as I sunk to the floor.

"Get the fuck out you queer," he said coldly, turning his back on me.

 

Jude opened the door before I even had the chance to knock. He pulled me into his arms, pressing light kisses onto my cheek.

"Are you okay?" he repeated over and over again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I gazed into his worrisome eyes. "I don't really..have a place to stay right now."

"I'm sure my moms will be fine with you staying here. I'll ask when they get home, okay?"

"Okay," I squeaked.

"Babe, did he hurt you?"

"Jude, I'm fine, really."

"Come on, you need to eat something, you're a mess."  

We went to the kitchen, where he promptly opened up a few cupboards. "What would you like? You can have anything you want," he smiled at me.

"Uhm..cereal is fine."

"Cereal? Really Connor? That's what you want?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Surprise me."


	8. Chapter 8

Connor was currently laying on his stomach. In between my legs. Arms pressed firmly into the bed on either side of my waist. Okay. Not what it sounds like though. He was just kissing. Kissing the bare skin along the waistline of my jeans. Sucking the flesh every now and then, deliberately trying to create a clutter of hickeys. Or in other terms, making me horny.

I was so caught up in the moment, that I didn't exactly notice when he carefully slid my jeans down to my knees. What did get my attention was his fingers sneaking into the seam of my briefs, rubbing his thumb against my hip bone.

"Connor, stop," I moaned. Sure, I should've gone the extra mile to get him to quit, and maybe not have moaned my words, but what can I say? I am a teenage boy after all.

Of course, he didn't stop. Instead he grabbed 'it'. Like he'd done this a million times. Which he'd never done this. Fuck. If he was any other guy I would've let him continue. This had to end though.

I immediately jerked back, tugging my jeans on as fast as I could manage.

"What the hell!" Connor blurted. "Was that not good enough for you!? Because according to what's in your pants, you were enjoying it!"

"I told you stop! We've for been dating for like..hmm lemme think..two fucking days!"

"That's funny coming from you!" he snorted. "You fuck guys you've known for two minutes, but you won't fuck me!?"

"Baby, it's not like that," I pouted.

He looked like a kicked puppy; as if any minute now he'd burst into tears. Because his NEW boyfriend wouldn't _fuck_ him.

"Then what's it like?"

"I don't want to fuck you-"

"Oh. Okay." He got up from the bed and just stared at me. "I guess I'll go home."

"Babe you don't have anywhere to go-"

"You won't even have sex with me!" he sulked. He was being pathetic. Making me feel bad for stupid reasons.

I stood up, facing him, and took hold of both his hands. "Look at me- no in the eyes, Connor. I want our first time to be special, okay? I want you- us to be ready. To love one another. Baby, I don't want to hurt you."

"But- you don't make those rules for the other guys you've had sex with."

"Con. You're not just a hook up to me. Or a one night stand. I'm not going to take your virginity like it means nothing to you, or to me."

"I thought we'd done it before-"

"Never. Not even close. You weren't ready. And I would've- and still would- wait a million years for you to be ready." I know, I sounded all sappy and went all, _The Notebook_ status on Connor, but I mean I had to keep him here before he idiotically returned to Satan's hell hole- aka Adam's.

He giggled, fucking giggled, "You're telling me we dated for nearly a year and we never once had sex?"

"Nope. No sex. No hand jobs. No blow jobs."

"Damn, how did you survive?"

"Shut up!" I playfully shoved him. "I loved you. That's how."

"You must have loved me a lot," Connor teased.

"You're telling me! You wouldn't even take your shirt off in front of me!"

"Maybe to protect you from these babies." He nonchalantly lifted up his shirt to reveal his well-defined and might I say, oh so sexy abs, but his face fell when we both noticed the splotchy new bruise forming on his upper stomach. I was going to fucking kill Adam for that one.

"Oh..I forgot.." he murmured, clearly embarrassed that I'd seen what he'd been hiding.

"It's okay." I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, letting my lips linger there for a few seconds, "Moms will be home soon, wanna help me make dinner?" I figured distracting Connor was my best bet.

 

"So Connor, how's school?" Lena asked, "Having a good junior year?"

"Yeah, so far so great. Glad it's almost over," Connor replied sheepishly. It had been easy to convince moms to let him stay. They loved him. Adored him. Always had. Only rules they applied to the situation were the typical 'open door' policy, and the 'yes Jude, Connor has to sleep on the floor unless he's willing to sleep in Callie's room' ordeal.

"How about your dad? How's he doing?" This time it was Stef who broke the silence, sliced right through it. God I felt bad for Connor. Being interrogated at dinner. What a mighty fine way to treat a guest.

So I answered for him, "Look Mom, Connor's great, school's great, his dad is great. Stop annoying him with all the pointless questions!"

"Jude, watch your tone young man," Stef warned.

"Honey. Jude. Both of you need to calm down. Don't do this in front of Connor. _Please_." Lena's eyes begged us to knock it off. "You boys are excused. Behave. And leave the door _open_."

Once in the comfort of my room, Connor said, "You know you shouldn't have done that."

"They were hammering you with questions. You looked uneasy. It was the least I could do."

He gazed at his feet, "You're lucky Jude. You have _two_ wonderful mothers who love you no matter what. Don't ever forget that. I didn't mind the questions, not one bit."

 

"Connor, why do we keep doing this?" I mumbled into his chest. "It's ridiculous."

The tears were streaming down his cheeks, precariously landing on my shoulder; warm and sad. "Because, I love you," he choked out. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm not ready."

My heart stammered in my chest, it pained me to say it, "I deserve better. I can't keep doing this with you." I kissed his trembling lips, nuzzling my nose into his for the last time.

"Jude, I love you."

"It's not enough." I let him go, and his body dropped to the floor, sobbing 'I love you' over and over. I slowly walked out of the boys' bathroom and back into the crowded halls, not allowing myself to cry.

"Jude! Come back!" I heard him shout from behind me.

"Jude!" he grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly.

"Jude," his voice echoed, but sounded so damn close.

"Babe, wake up." Suddenly my eyes flew open, my whole body lurching out of the dream realm. Holy hell. What a fucking nightmare. God, it felt _real._

Connor was sitting up in the make shift bed on the floor, hand clenching mine, with an almost ghostly look painted across his face. "Jude, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?" I groggily responded. What time was it? Fuck. 4:52 am.

"You kept whimpering and sleep talking. You scared me."

"Sorry. Just a bad dream." I couldn't really see Connor in the dark, just a blurred outline of him, but I felt my bed move when he pulled himself up. Then he climbed on top of me, straddling me while practically breathing down my neck, his morning breath clouding around me.

"Tell me about it," he whispered, face inches from mine.

"Connor! Get off me! You know the rules!" He rolled off of me. But not off the bed. Of course. So I elbowed him, hoping he'd get the notion. He didn't.

"So tell me, what was this awful dream that had you chanting my name in your sleep?" Connor grinned. Fuck. I said his name? Damn it.

"I don't wanna talk about it. Get on the floor. And let's go back to sleep."

"Awh come on babe! You're no fun! Lemme sleep up here!"

"No. My moms would kill us. And you wouldn't have a place to stay." That shut him right up, and he let out an obnoxious sigh before returning to his respectable bed.

"Sleep tight Judy Moody," he chuckled. Fuck you, Connor.


	9. Chapter 9

The week had gone by fairly well. I mean, give or take a couple punches and shoves. Jude lessened the hurt. Comforted me before I knew I needed it. I'd gained the courage in the middle of the week to sneak over to my father's house, retrieving some of my belongings, mostly clothes and such. It was just a tad too hard to squeeze into Jude's tiny jeans, and his XS shirts. I hadn't heard from dad. Which stung; a little, that is. He didn't give a flying fuck about me. His son. His only child. No wonder mom left him. _Left us._

After all the homophobic slurs that had been directed towards me this week, I half expected to hear Jordan drop one on me too when he approached me in the afternoon. He didn't though.

"Hey..." he said shyly, avoiding eye contact.

"You wanna throw the gay kid a punch too?" I challenged him.

"What?" His eyes flashed up, giving me this 'what the fuck are you talking about' look. "Hell no Connor! You dumbass!"

"Then what do _you_ want?"

"Well...I went to your house the other day. To apologize, _actually_. Turns out you weren't home. You ran away? That's what your dad said."

I softened my glare on him. "Bullshit. He kicked me out, for- well.. you can probably guess..."

"Do you- ya know- need a place to stay?"

I thought about Jude, his family, I couldn't lie to his parents for any longer. "Sure. Thanks. I'll be by tonight," I smiled.

"Anytime. See you then," Jordan stalked off to his own locker, leaving me a bit baffled. He hadn't even stood up for me in front of the baseball team. Now he was offering me a bed in his house? He needed to get his priorities in order, but I had no room to complain.

 

"Hey Con."

I was hastily stuffing my bag with all the items I had brought to Jude's when he finally decided to come home. He hadn't given me near enough time to prepare for the conversation we were about to have. I stopped packing and stood up to face him. "Where you been?" I questioned, pulling him into my embrace. _Weed_. The smell suffocated me, engulfed my lungs. Of course. He'd been off smoking. _Again._

"Skate park. The usual," he shrugged.

"Babe, you need to shower. That is sickening."

"Aww, you don't like my new cologne?" chuckled a loopy Jude. "Where you _going_ , Connor?"

"To Jordan's."

"He your fuck buddy, or something?"

"Jude, quit it. I can't keep staying here. You know that."

"Why not babyyy?" His pout made me want to stay. And even in his stoned state, the way he dragged out the word 'baby' made me want him to _beg_ me to stay. I pushed all sexual urges aside, and firmly told it like it was.

"My dad can't be 'on a business trip' for forever. Your moms' were already suspicious about a week," I inhaled slowly. "I'll come over plenty. So much that you'll be sick of me. Promise." My lips pressed against his forehead, "Now, about that shower."

"Okay," he mindlessly replied. Not positive what he was agreeing to. The shower, or me leaving. Either way, both were occuring.

 

"How was Jordan's last night? Get any sleep?" We were laying on our stomachs in the silky, warm sand, basking in the rays of early morning sunshine.

"Can't really sleep when you're constantly consuming my every thought," I cooed at the radiant boy. "Anyways, are you going to get high every day and ruin my chance at coherent conversation with you?"

"Oh, you know. Only when my boyfriend is off in wonderland, doing God knows what, and barely acknowledging my very existence."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday," he sneered. "I didn't even catch a single glimpse of you till I got home, and then you were gone." I couldn't see his harsh brown eyes through his heavily shaded sunglasses, and I'm thankful I couldn't, because I could feel the 3rd degree burns they were giving me. I just sighed. Buried my head into my crossed arms. Didn't want to argue. Not again.

"Okay. Cool. Ignore me today too." I waited for him to continue. Only muffled shuffling followed, before the silence sunk in.

Peeking through my arms, I realized that Jude had left. No matter how tired I was of chasing after that idiot, I would do it repeatedly just to be able to see him smile at me again.

It took hours to find him. HOURS. I probably walked a mere five miles in search of him. And he ended up being practically in the middle of nowhere. Sitting atop a cluster of large, obscure rocks. Eyes red. Light sunburn glowing on his pale skin. Watching enchanting waves crash into the shore.

I hopped up beside him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

"Jude," I began, "I wasn't avoiding you-"

He instantaneously cut me off, "You don't like me. Not the way I like you. We'll never be the same. I knew it wouldn't work."

"Honey, don't say that. I'm trying. Had a shitty week, okay?"

"Like I didn't? Because I've been gay for years. So it doesn't matter now. Right?"

"I didn't say anything along those lines Jude."

"You didn't have to. I can't do this. Us. You're only going to break my heart."

"Stop it! Stop blabbering about ridiculous things!"

"You don't like me. You don't want me. It's fucking obvious."

"You're right," I concluded.

"I knew it." His head dropped when he murmured the sorrowful words.

"I don't like you. I love you. I don't want you. I need you." I drew him into me, daring him with my eyes to kiss the fuck out of me. When his soft pink lips met mine, it was pure ecstasy. The best kiss we had had by far. It was his way of saying that he loved me too, that he need me just as much as I needed him.

 

"Let's go camping," I suggested to an unsatisfied Jude. The rest of the day had been an absolute bore. Now we were debating on how to spend the evening. And we weren't getting anywhere.

"Like in the woods?" he asked.

"Yes."

"In a tent?"

"Yes."

"By ourselves?" He smirked a little, figuring out my plan.

"Yes you idiot. Me and you. In the woods. In a tent. Sharing a sleeping bag. By _ourselves_."

"Okay," he grinned, "let's get out of here."

"We've gotta pack first dummy."

"Right. I knew that." He had the cutest, smuggest, smile smeared across his face. I shuddered at the thrilling thought of what could happen tonight.

Jude clearly wasn't built for camping. He had no motivation to set up a tent. Complained about it relentlessly until I gave in and helped. Well not helped. But put it up myself. And the complaining didn't stop there. Every second he had something new to complain about. The food. The weather. Clothes. Flashlights. The bugs. The dirt. The ground. EVERYTHING. Finally we settled down, after an evening of playing obnoxious Jude, and aggravated Connor.

Late in the night, Jude broke our heated, half clothed, make out session.

"Can..we..j-j-just talk," he panted, rolling on to his side and off of me. I know it was wrong, but I didn't want to 'talk'. I had an ever growing, irritating erection that I needed to vanish if we were going to talk. And Jude just so happened to be the King of Boner Killers. He decimated the mood. Ruined it. Like he usually did.

He must've noticed my agitated state when he said, "Not everything is physical in a relationship, Connor."

"I know," I retorted. "I just thought-"

"Thought what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing baby. What do you want to talk about?" I didn't want to piss him off, we'd done enough fighting today, might as well enjoy his company while it lasted.

"What's it like..to uhm..not remember anything before..the accident?" Jude gulped. My eyes were focused on the highest point of the tent, imagining what it would be like if I did remember Jude.

"It's terrible. People are telling you all about yourself, all the things that you did. But you don't have the memories, you don't even know if what you're being told is the truth. How are you supposed to trust that you were the star baseball player, or the popular guy, or friends with so and so? I feel like I'm not living the right life. I don't feel a connection with what I'm told." Tears were glistening down my cheeks, little rivers following the architecture of my face.

Jude cozied up into my side, slinging his right arm over my bare stomach, and resting his head on my chest. "When I tell you about us, do you believe me?"

"I might not remember us, but when you talk about us, I hear the tone in your voice. It's bittersweet. Reiterating everything important. Just for me. I don't need memories to know that what we had was special. Is special."

He kissed lightly at my shoulder. "I love you. I know I should've said it earlier, I was just taken aback when you said it."

I intercepted him, asking him a question I had on my mind, "Jude? What's your biggest fear?"

In these moments Jude was most beautiful. He wasn't being a smartass. Or acting like a reckless punk. He was lying here, letting his walls down. Allowing me in to the ever changing, but magnificent mind of Jude. His eyes were soft, melted chocolate, fluttering closed every few seconds. Eyelashes long and dark; every lash memorable, with its own unique shade of brown. Eyebrows exaggerating that perfect point that each sported in the middle of their identical arcs. His hair was an inky mess, like always, top and front lengthier than the sides and back. Stray hairs rested on his pastel forehead, not swept precariously back with gel. Bottom lip thicker than top, pouted out just a tad more too, all pale, pink and enticing. Especially when he talked.

"I used to be afraid of losing you. It scared me the most. That one day you would decide to be done with my crap and leave. Abandon me. Like everyone else had. I guess I get attached. I've been attached to lots of people. Not just boyfriends or anything. But like family. And so on so forth."

I caressed his arm, aware of how tense he'd gotten.

"And then the accident happened. I thought that I truly had lost you. Forever. I was sure you wouldn't make it. There was no way. And then you woke up. And they said you'd lost your memory. At first, I was so terrified that you would never remember me, but then I thought about all the awful things I said to you, and how much pain I put you in, and I became scared that you would remember me..."

"Jude, shh. It's fine. Everything is fine."

He sniffled, "Now, I'm afraid I'm going to screw up. Again."


	10. Chapter 10

The hot weeks flashed by. I attempted to spend every waking moment I had with Connor. That wasn't working so well. I hadn't seen much of him recently. He was always 'too busy' doing this and that, I suppose. I knew he was depressed. That was the real reason he didn't come around much anymore. Just not really feeling like himself. He kept switching between staying with me, staying with Jordan, staying with me, staying with Jordan. Beyond complicated Connor. Secretly he wanted to go home, but he couldn't rely on Adam, so I tolerated his behaviors. His late night drinking. The stench of alcohol he seemed to wear as cologne now. His violence towards inanimate objects. I even put up with his disrespect. Which these days was only directed at me.

Summer vacation was coming to a halt. More rain. More storms. Less Connor. No texts or calls from him all weekend. Unusual. Then poof. Shows up on my doorstep Monday afternoon.

Handsome. Hazel eyes shimmering, not glazed. Sandy hair combed instead of tangled. Stubble not making an appearance today. Decent attire. Sober. Even smelt nice. Not like whiskey and bar soap.

"Hey," he chirped.

"Hey Con, how you been?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Just missing you."

"I'm sorry baby."

"Don't be. Wanna come upstairs?"

"Duh," he mocked.

I slyly added, "Whole house to myself."

 

We cuddled. For awhile. Sharing sweet kisses, and quick words. Avoiding conversation. Topic of the day was something I didn't exactly expect though.

"So, I uh, thought maybe we could do something new today?"

"Oh. Like what?" I had a hard time really wanting to do anything with him. I craved words, not actions.

"Well, I want to- I want to have sex. I mean, if you want to of course-" He blushed vicariously; he was blind to the fact that we weren't on the best of terms at the moment. I became a little ticked off. Which made it easier for my brain to choose what to do. If he was ready for sex, then I'd show him what being 'ready' felt like.

"Okay," I agreed. "But are you sure?"

"Yes."

"We'll go slow, you're in charge babe." And with that I found myself on top of him, kissing him roughly. Slipping my hands under his shirt. Feeling up his sculpted stomach. Fingers mapping out his torso. Scouting every slight contour.

He didn't hesitate. Tore off my shirt. A whole step ahead of me. His breathing stifled when my crotch rubbed his. Creating friction. Hardening him before it would ever harden me. A hand slid into my back pocket, squeezing foolishly. I grinded down on him again, his moan muffled by my mouth.

I licked his lips before kissing down his jaw, discovering a suitable spot on his neck. Gently sucking while I unbuttoned his flannel. Once that had been removed, I let myself collapse onto him. My stomach promiscuously lied in between his legs, chest resting upon his obvious bulge. I kissed the warm flesh above his jeans, lips lingering there for too long.

Connor watched, twisting his fingers into my hair. Probably guessing he'd get a blow job out of this. He wouldn't.

By the time we were both stripped down to nothing but underwear, I had just one question for him, "Are you ready?"

He responded with a kiss.

 

"Stop!" he cried out when I pushed inside him. I instantly did as told. Pulling out. Away. It had hurt him. Just like I thought it would. Why couldn't I have just said no? Horn dog. Bastard. Connor turned the other way, wrapping the covers around his naked, vulnerable body. Lying on his side. Facing opposite of me. He sulked into my pillow. I didn't have a clue as to what to do. I was mad. At myself.

I tried not to touch Connor as I settled into the sheets. But I couldn't resist. _He was so torn apart._ Snuggled my body against his back. _Asking for sex._ Curled my arm around him. _Wanted some sort of physical love._ Kissed the sharp bones at the top of his spine. _Hadn't gone how he had hoped._

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"Not your fault. Mine."

"You can't take all the blame baby."

He didn't speak.

"Con? What's wrong?"

"I can't do anything right! I can't even have sex with my boyfriend!"

"Sweet heart. It's fine. You do lots of things right. Lots. As for the sex, it's not a big deal. It was your body's natural reaction to something you've never done."

"But it disappointed you."

"Connor, I don't have any expectations set that I need you to reach. It wasn't disappointing. It happens. It doesn't change how I perceive you. It doesn't affect my feelings for you."

"I just wanted to pleasure you. Make you feel good."

"Connor?"

"What?"

"Nothing could ever give me more pleasure than knowing that you love me. Nothing. Being able to call you mine makes me feel good," I paused momentarily. "I love you. More than anything."

"I love you, too."

"Let's change topics. Okay?"

"Okay," Connor breathed out.

"Have you decided what colleges to apply to this year?" I sheepishly asked.

"Actually I'm not."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm joining the Army," he deadpanned.

"Oh."

 

Taylor dropped by the next evening, snatching me up and dragging me to one of the infamous, end of summer parties that I'd always gone to. They were good for hook ups, alcohol, and drugs. All my favorite things rolled into one. I needed something to take my mind off of Connor. He had royally pissed me off with the whole 'joining the Army' thing. I didn't want to think about it any longer.

I found a drinking buddy and we hit up the liquor in no time. His name was Ethan. Not from Anchor Beach. Couldn't remember exactly where he had said. Most everything became a blur after the first few drinks. I do know that we sat in a circle, passing joints around for awhile.

Ethan was hot. And gay. Shaggy black hair. Green eyes that stood out against his olive skin. Definite skater kid. Stoner for sure. Edgy. Style like mine, except messier. Sexier. He was kissable. Fuckable.

He tugged me into the rager, wanting to dance. Electrifying Ethan. Grinding. Touching. Feeling. Wasted. Giggling. I needed to taste him.

I dangled my arms over his shoulders. Eyes drifting to his lips.

"So you gonna kiss me or what?" he lured.

"Mmm maybe."

"You tease."

I smirked at him, crashing my desperate lips into his. He was aware of my bad reputation. But that didn't stop him. His tongue snuck into my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. I let out a deep moan, oblivious to the hundreds of other bodies lingering about us. When he thrust his hips into mine, I nearly melted.

"Come on," I slurred, leading him elsewhere.

The music blared heavily.

_"They say I only think in the form of crunching numbers_

_In hotel rooms collecting page six lovers_

_Get me out of my mind and get you out of those clothes_

_I'm a liner away from getting you into the mood, whoa"_

He pushed me into the bed, my body falling against fluffy pillows. Climbing on top of me, Ethan pinned my arms above my head.

"You better be as good as I'm told," his tongue flickered at me. He bent down, placed his lips below my ear and nipped at the skin.

"Oh, I am," I dared, flipping him over, roles reversing.

"Show me."

_"One night and one more time_

_One more night, one more time_

_Thanks for the memories_

_Even though they weren't so great_

_He tastes like you only sweeter"_

We dressed noiselessly.

I ran my fingers through damp hair, watching Ethan fumble with his jeans. God we were intoxicated. From both the tequila and each other. He staggered over to me when he was done.

"Fuck, you're good."

"I told you."

"Gonna be sore in the morning," he snickered.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't apologize. You're a God. A sexy God. Totally worth the pain."

Our arms fell over one another, finding enough balance to hobble back to the congested living room. _Together_. Holding on for dear life.

Ethan gave me a sideways glance, then leaned in. His lips brushed across the corner of mine. My eyes remained open. Glaring at the backside of a familiar boy.

The boy pivoted around.


	11. Chapter 11

"What the fuck?" My jaw fell open at the sight of Jude hanging on some other guy. Not just any guy. Ethan. Ethan fucking Hanes. Westminster High. Soccer player. Notorious asshole. I didn't know he was gay. Let alone a home wrecker.

He let go of my boyfriend, sauntering towards me. "Hey Stevens!" he called.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Ethan?" I wished I was drunk. Drunk enough to forget this. But I was dead sober.

Jude stayed put; he kept his eyes on the floor, clearly scared by what I'd do now.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan guiltily asked. "I was just greeting an old friend."

"I've never been your friend, you douche bag. What are you doing with _my_ boyfriend?"

"Jude? He's dating _you_?"

"Yeah he is. Has been. Is that a problem?"

"Man, if I woulda known I wouldn't have let him-"

"Let him what?" I snapped.

"Fuck me." He smiled when he said it, all proud and mighty. I couldn't believe it. One hundred shades of anger washed over me. I wanted to punch Ethan. Kill him maybe. Instead I shoved past him, seeking out Jude.

"Come on, we need to talk," I sighed when he wrapped his arms around me. Super hammered. Unaware of what was happening. I tugged him out of the house, down the street, to my car. Helped him inside, buckled his seat belt, and then did the same for myself. Cranked the engine, shifted into drive.

"Where are we going?" Jude groaned. There was no point in explaining anything to him. He would disregard it, ask again, annoy the shit out of me.

I drove, and drove, and drove. Conjuring up all the words I needed to say, and thrusting them into the back of my mind, saving them for later.

I swiveled down the old dirt road. Hoping this was the right way.

Thirty-seven minutes later we pulled up to the cabin. My father's cabin. Sitting on the edge of a lake, secluded from the rest of the world. I remembered coming here after I was released from the hospital. It was relaxing, peaceful.

"Where are we?"

"Don't worry about it. We're safe," I replied, getting out of the car. Jude followed suit, a bit slower and more chaotically.

I lifted up the door mat, revealing a little silver key. _Thank God_.

Once inside, Jude settled into the couch, watching me with intent. "You want something to drink?"

He nodded in return.

Grazing through the kitchen, I found a glass, filled it with tap water, and stumbled to Jude. He grabbed the glass from my hands, and took a swig.

"I'm gonna take a shower, okay? And then we'll talk."

The bathroom was as tiny as the rest of the cabin. Bathtub crammed into the corner; toilet crowded by the sink.

I twisted the knob, a spew of water splattering into the tub. While waiting for it to heat up, I undressed, examining myself in the dirty mirror. I was a mess of fading scars, tired eyes, and chapped lips.

After initiating the shower head, I stepped into the steam, my skin soaking up the heat, relishing in the downpour. My bundled nerves were instantly calmed. And then the storm hit.

Thinking about Jude screwing someone else pained me. I stifled a sob. It hurt. My heart ached. My brain screamed. My stomach knotted. Every sense of sanity came crashing down. I came crashing down. Slumped on the tub floor. Knees tucked into my chest. Water spilling over me. Clouding my eyes.

How long had I been in here?

The door creaked, disrupting my tantrum.

"Connor? Are you s'okay?" His muffled voice slurred.

"I'm fine. Get the fuck out."

Jude peeked about the shower curtain, gazing me over. "You're not okay." He turned off the water, tossed me a towel, and lifted me up. I tumbled onto the tiled floor, reaching for the toilet. Lifting the seat rapidly, I leaned over and threw up the contents of my day. I placed myself in front of the bowl, figuring this would be a long night. Jude didn't hesitate to sit down behind me, his legs on either side of my body. He linked his arms around my waist.

We remained that way for hours. I continued to vomit every now and again until all I could do was dry heave. Jude wasn't mortified. He had this serenity about him. Holding me. Keeping quiet. Wiping off my mouth multiple times. Rubbing my back. Comforting me. How could I ever be mad at this phenomenal human being?

It was extremely late when at last we were able to talk. Jude seemed beyond exhausted. Yawning every couple minutes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, sitting criss-crossed on the bed, while I was sprawled out on my back.

"I'm not mad, Jude."

"You should be. You should hate me. You deserve to be mad."

"Well I'm not. I'm just hurt."

"I know." He glanced at his hands, fear consuming his face.

"Why'd you do it?"

"I wasn't thinking. I was kinda pissed."

"About what?"

He ignored my question. "I hurt too, ya know."

"What's going on, babe?"

His eyes collided with mine, a tear slipping down the slope of his face. "We never see each other anymore. You're always 'too busy' for me. You don't put any effort into our relationship."

"Jude, I came over yesterday."

"Yeah and all you wanted to do was have sex."

"With you. At least I'm not going around having sex with just anyone."

"That was a mistake. You know that," he wailed.

"Well you made me feel bad about myself."

"Why?"

"Because," I jabbed.

"Because why?"

"Because barely a day after we try to have sex, you go off and fuck somebody else."

"That had nothing to do with us."

"Whatever, Jude."

"I love you. So much. It kills me," Jude whispered.

"Then stop being such a slut."

"Maybe you should learn how to be a better boyfriend."

"Maybe I don't want to be _your_ boyfriend." God I wanted to force those words back down my throat.

"It's not like you have to be." He slinked off the bed, and threw his limp body on the couch.

"Jude I didn't-"

"You did mean it."

I went numb.


	12. Chapter 12

The scratchy material of the couch didn't allow much sleep, and neither did the sharp headache I had. I tossed and turned until I couldn't stand it.

"Connor? You asleep?" I padded over to the bed, crawled under the sheets, and collapsed into the pillows, watching the rise and fall of Connor's chest.

"Mmm," he startled. "Jude? I love you."

I snaked my fingers through his, silently forgiving him. No apology needed.

I woke up in a cold, desolated bed, hours later. _Where the hell am I?_ My eyes searched about the room, trying to find some sort of familiarity. On the bedside table was a glass of water, three Ibuprofens, and a note.

Hurriedly, I gulped down the water, quenching my undying thirst, and swallowed the pills, seeking relief for my cramping body. Hangovers were always the worst.

The note read:

_Went for a run._

_Trying to clear my mind._

_Be back soon._

_-Connor_

Nearly the second I finished reading, the door swung open, a sweaty Connor perched there.

"Good morning sleepy head."

"Hi," I managed to say.

"Feeling any better?"

"Not really."

"Well then. Why don't we go eat breakfast?" Connor smiled.

"Where are we?"

"My father's cabin. At the lake. There's no food here, so we'll have to drive a ways to the diner."

"Why are we here?"

"We just needed a place to talk. Away from the rest of the world. Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" I didn't want him to say it. I wanted to pretend that last night was just another bad dream. That Ethan wasn't real. That I hadn't enjoyed screwing someone else. That Connor didn't know. That we hadn't argued. That I'd never even gotten drunk.

"You made a mistake," he uttered. "So we came out here, to fix it." He sounded like all sorts of broken. Like hell had captured his soul and dragged it to the underworld. "But come on, let's go get breakfast. I bet you're starving."

"Connor. I don't care about breakfast. I care about you. Are you okay?"

He made his way to the kitchen, turning his back on me. "Yeah, I'm fine."

" _Connor_."

"What do you want me to say? ' _No Jude. I'm not okay. I'm suffering. My boyfriend cheated on me. I'm tired of living. I'm constantly sad for no reason. I want to go home._ ' Is that what you want?"

"Babe. You don't mean most of that."

"Yes I do!" he shrieked at me, slamming his fist down on the counter.

"You don't have to get so worked up! You chose this life! You chose to date me, knowing exactly the kind of person I am. You chose to live with Jordan instead of staying at home-"

"Don't you fucking tell me what I did! Most of the things I've done were for you. So that I could be with you! And you're an ungrateful little bitch!"

"Shut your mouth, Connor. You don't dare talk to me like that again." I stomped into the kitchen, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him so that he was facing me. I'd never seen such rage in his eyes. They were beyond intense, fire nipping at his dilated pupils.

"What are you going to do to me? _Little bitch_." His left hand jerked at the collar of my shirt, balling it up, and making a fist around the fabric.

"You're just like him," I retorted.

Connor's face scrunched up, his features without one last trace of solace. Eyebrows practically knotted together. "Like who?"

"You're father."

His reaction was as expected. I crossed a line. A line that internally stabbed him. Allowed me to twist a knife in his heart. He threw a punch with his free hand. Knuckles slamming into my mouth. Fuck it hurt. Teeth grinding into each other. Lips smacking against bone structure.

 I trampled backwards, sinking to the floor, out of Connor's grasp. My hand found my lips, blood trickling down my chin. I wiped at it, holding back tears, holding back words, emotions.

Connor didn't move. Just stared. Stared at the mess he had created. He was a monster. A fucking, Goddamn monster.

After a minute or so, reality must've hit him.

"Jude! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen! I'm sorry!" He knelt down, assessing the damage, reaching out for me. I quickly shunned away, flinching at the mere thought of him touching me.

"Take me home!" I wailed. Connor was panicked. Frightened. But that didn't change what he had done.

"I'm sorry! Jude, I'm not him. I'm not my father. I couldn't think straight. I'm sorry," his voice trailed off, tears slipping from his eyes.

"Take me home."

"Jude-"

"Now." I pulled myself up, walked to the door, and gave Connor a slight glare. After slamming the door behind me, I felt something inside of me shatter. Give out. My heart was breaking.

I don't know how many times Connor apologized on the ride home. Maybe a bazillion. Not enough though. I remained silent. Not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. He didn't deserve my words. He was unworthy of what I had to say.

Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror was devastating. My lips were ruined. They were swollen and ugly. Two splits sliced into my bottom lip; divots that would take too much time to heal.

Returning to my bedroom, I flipped off the lights, cranked up the stereo, and flopped down on the bed. Pulling out my pack of cigarettes, I lit the last one and faded into the music.

 

My phone vibrated, light flooding across the comforter .

Connor:

**Jude, I'm sorry.**

**Please forgive me.**

**I love you.**

**This can't be the end.**

I didn't reply, at least not to Connor. But I did send a text back to the foreign number that had messaged me this morning.

An hour passed by the time I had the response I needed. Ethan at my front door. A hurricane of alluring beauty. My own personal brand of morphine.

"Who the fuck did that to your face?" he blurted when I let him inside.

"Connor."

"Why'd he ruin such a pretty, pretty face?" His whisper sent shivers down my spine, daunting shivers that could've made me drop to my knees. "Was it because of me?" Ethan brushed his fingers against my lips, indulging in the soft moan I let out. "Poor baby. Let's make it all better."

I led him up the stairs, praying to whoever controlled the universe to not let moms come home anytime soon. We stopped short of my bed, Ethan examining the room, then focusing on me, giving me his undivided attention.

He linked his arms over my neck, beckoning me to place my hands upon his dainty hips. Slowly, his lips met mine, a jolt of agony washing over me when he applied more pressure.

"Did that hurt?" he muttered under his breath, lowering his mouth to my neck. He eased me out of my shirt before I shoved him onto the bed, straddling him strategically.

"No," I breathed out.

My senses started to vanish. All that I had left was touch, taste, and hearing. I touched him in the ways I knew would give him pleasure. Delicate fingers tracing over dips and curves of skin. I tasted his salty skin, licking at his throat, forcing him to whimper. Our sounds were muffled by the music; a trance that set the pace, set our bodies' rhythms.

_"I don't like them innocent_

_I don't want no face fresh_

_Want them wearing leather_

_Begging, let me be your taste test_

_I like the sad eyes, bad guys_

_Mouth full of white lies_

_Kiss me in the corridor_

_But quick to tell me goodbye"_

Ethan's hands glided into my jeans, pushing them down off my hips. He bit his lip when our eyes connected, seducing me to tug his shirt off.

He pulled me closer, smashing his mouth into mine, tongue desperately lapping at my lips. I parted them, granting him access, tangling my fingers into his hair.

_"You're a Rolling Stone boy_

_Never sleep alone boy_

_Got a million numbers_

_And they're filling up your phone, boy_

_I'm off the deep end, sleeping_

_All night through the weekend_

_Saying that I love him but_

_I know I'm gonna leave him"_

 

We went for a couple of rounds, finishing with a bit of steamy shower sex, and exhausting each other to a breaking point.

"I'm not ready to go," he sighed, towel drying his hair.

"I'm too tired to go at it again."

Ethan burst into laughter. "God Jude, I'm not just using you for sex. You're ridiculous."

"I know," I smirked at him.

"I wanna hang out. With you. No sex needed."

"Okay."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, observing me while I dressed. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I don't know."

"You do. I can tell."

"How? I just fucked you, not him."

"I can see it in your eyes. All broken because your boyfriend hit you."

"I never said that he _hit_ me."

"But he did. And he doesn't deserve you. Not if he's going to treat you like that."

"I k-know," I stuttered.

"Is he worth the pain?"

I nodded, drawing in a breath to keep from crying.

"Then tell him. Forgive him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to move on." I flopped down on the bed, burying my face into a pillow.

"Jude, you can't just 'move on' from a love like that. Connor loves you. As much, if not more than you love him."

"He's joining the Army. We won't even have much time together before he leaves." When I spoke those words, I realized that deep down, the idea of Connor going to war, strained me entirely.

"You can't ditch Connor because of what he wants to do with his life. That's not fair to him." Ethan laid next to me, resting his hand on my back. I sobbed, body trembling underneath his touch. "Jude, I'm sorry. It sucks. I know. But it'll be okay. Don't cry. Please."

 

"Jude? Hello?" Connor was on the other end of the phone. It had been four days. His calls and texts were endless. Voicemails full of apologies and 'I love you's'. Quick messages transformed into lengthy essays. I couldn't keep ignoring him, he made it way too difficult to do so. I had initiated the call, presumably ready to forgive him.

But I wasn't prepared to talk.

"Hello? I know you're there, Jude."

I remained noiseless.

"I can hear you breathing." He paused, listening for any signs of intelligible speech. "You don't have to speak. I understand. I _am_ coming over though. Be there soon." Great. Just what I needed. Connor here, prodding me to give him some answers.

Callie popped into my room just as I was hanging up the phone.

"Hey bud, how are you doing?"

I shrugged my shoulders at her. Callie was used to my phases. The phases where I went mute. The ones that dragged out for unknown periods of time. I couldn't help it. It happened.

"Well, I've gotta get back to campus today. It's a long drive so I'm about to leave. I'll miss you Jude, stay out of trouble. And enjoy your senior year, okay?" She grinned at me and then tackled me with a tight hug. "Love you, little brother."

The doorbell rang twice as soon as we parted, signaling that a very anxious Connor had arrived.

"Who's that?" Callie asked.

I mouthed back, "Connor."

She ran to answer the door, saving me the hassle of doing it myself.

"Hey Connor!" I heard her exclaim. "He's upstairs, you can go on up." Then her voice dropped to an almost inaudible pitch, "Fair warning, he's not talking right now, so don't pressure him about it."

"Thanks Callie," Connor said. Yeah. Thanks Callie.

"Jude! I'm leaving! See you in a few weeks!" Callie shouted from downstairs.

Within seconds, Connor was up the stairs, and nearly 10 feet away from me. Flowers in one hand and a stuffed puppy in the other. I flashed him a shy smile, inviting him closer.

"Hey," he started, "I'm really sorry. About everything." He stepped over to the dresser and laid down the gifts. "I've been a really awful boyfriend. But, I love you, Jude. So, so much."

Connor sat on the bed next to me, gazing at my hands. I extended one to him, coaxing him to take it. He immediately did. Intertwining our fingers, and caressing my thumb with his.

 "I love you," he mumbled before bringing his lips to mine. I cupped my free hand around his cheek, pressing into the kiss. Desire submerging me. Tension draining. Passion surfacing.

Connor broke away, giving me hungry eyes. Eyes that scanned my body, processing each fragment. He bolted up, and switched on the radio, finding a decently slow song.

_"Would you bleed for me?_

_Lick it off my lips, like you needed me?_

_Would you sit me on a couch?_

_With your fingers in my mouth?_

_You look so cool when you're reading me"_

After yanking his shirt over his head, he gently pushed me onto my back, clambering on to me, elbows on either side of me. He placed a light kiss on my forehead, working his way back to my lips. A rough hand slid under my shirt, roaming across my ribs, then carefully rubbing at my side.

_"But I've got my mind, made up this time_

_Cause there's a menace in my bed_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?_

_Can you see his silhouette?"_

Connor lifted up my shirt, trying to tug it off while asking, "Can I?"

I nodded, stifling a snicker at his hilarious attempt to get me out of my clothes.

"Jude? I mean, can I make love to you?" he susurrated. I locked my eyes on his, letting a few moments pass by.

_"Would you lie for me?_

_Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?_

_Would you pin me to a wall?_

_Would you beg or would you crawl?_

_Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?"_

I kissed the corner of his mouth, a response that fell along the lines of yes.

_"_ _Let's cause a little trouble_

_Oh, you make me feel so weak_

_I bet you kiss your knuckles_

_Right before they touch my cheek"_


End file.
